


He(e)re

by JarorraKunSenpaiSan



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Jeremy is a sad bean, M/M, Michael is a supportive bean, Panic Attacks, Slight Violence, Tears, Well as happy as it can be, Yelling/Fighting, jeremy's mom is a bitch, with a happy ending i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 17:38:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13816143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JarorraKunSenpaiSan/pseuds/JarorraKunSenpaiSan
Summary: "Mom l-l-l-left. She's gone."





	He(e)re

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for a really long time! It's, like, super late to be getting into this fandom but I've decided to say f*** it and post this. 
> 
> Enjoy!^^

"Jeremy. Sweetie, you need to get up and pack."

Jeremy let out a breath, murmuring into his pillow that he didn't want to get up. He wanted to keep sleeping and keep dreaming. He could still picture the scene on the back of his eyelids—a green meadow covered in flowers and bathed in warm sunlight. Michael had been there. His mother and father had been there, holding hands, looking happier together than Jeremy had ever seen them. And...that girl that he'd seen in the hallway a few times had been there. Jeremy didn't remember her name, but he did remember glancing at her and thinking that she was pretty. (He also remembered Michael telling him that he had good taste; Asian girls were the only way to go.)

"Jeremiah!" The soft voice that had whispered into his ear became a furious hiss. Jeremy forced his tired eyes open, immediately drawn out of his fuzzy dream state. The cold darkness of his bedroom surrounded him like a cold blanket; wet, heavy, and bitter. His mother was crouched at the foot of his bed. Her expression was a mix of anger and determination.

Jeremy rubbed his eyes with the back of his palm, sitting up and yawning. "M-Mom? It's, like, super e-early--" She huffed, grabbing a fistful of Jeremy's blankets and pulling them down forcefully. "We're leaving, Jeremiah. Pack your essentials, and let's go."

Ice flooded Jeremy's veins. He didn't feel tired anymore. The cold air pressed against his legs, arms, torso. If he could, he'd be hiding under the covers right now. The look his mom was giving him was...dangerous.

"Wh-what?" Is all Jeremy managed to get out. His mother just stood up straight and retrieved Jeremy's backpack, tossing it at him. He barely caught it, fumbling awkwardly in his sitting position. "I'm not leaving you here with your idiot of a father. You’re coming with me. We're leaving this town behind. Hurry up." She snapped, giving him a venomous look. Jeremy swallowed, breath hitching. "N-no, mom, I can't. I have school here, and-and Michael, and--" His mothers glare hardened. On instinct, Jeremy slammed his mouth shut with an audible clack.

This wouldn't be the first time his mom looked at him like that. With a face that read, _you're supposed to do as I say without questions, boy. I'll show you who's boss._ It frightened Jeremy to the core for reasons he couldn't quite comprehend. He'd seen it on various occasions, each one alarming in its own way. When Jeremy returned from school and interrupted a loud and messy argument between her and his father. When she’d gotten so angry she’d thrown dishes all over the house. When Jeremy had accidentally spilled syrup on the jacket she’d left hanging on the back of a kitchen seat. That look was unstable and out of control.

"We're going. _Now_." His mother demanded once again. Jeremy almost moved. He almost stood up and started shoving random pairs of clothing into his bag.

Looking back on that moment, Jeremy knew he’d thought about it too long. Hesitated a second too much.

His mom seemed to have lost her patience. She reached forward and grabbed Jeremy by his hair and pulled him forward, off the bed. He let out a surprised squeak, pain coursing through his scalp. "Mom!" He cried as she tossed him towards his dresser. He fell against it with a grunt, panic and shock coursing through his veins. When he turned back to her, she looked more angry than before. Furious. Like she was about to murder him. "Get your stuff ready, Jeremiah, or I swear—"

"Mom," Jeremy pleaded, eyes watering. He dropped his backpack at his feet, surging forward. "Please mom. Please," He wrapped his small arms around her thin frame, letting overwhelmed tears flow out.

It wasn't that Jeremy hated his mother. He loved her like any son would love his mother. She had helped him through hard times and had laughed with him through good times. She was just...unhealthy. And Jeremy wanted to help her. He just didn't know how.

"We-we can st-stay!" Jeremy begged into her shirt, sobs rocking his body. He hadn’t planned on crying his hard, but now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop. “We can be happy here! With dad!” He was pleading with her now, desperate.

"Shh, you'll wake your father!" She hissed. "W-we don't have to leave, mom, p-please—" Suddenly, his mother grabbed his arm and shoved him away, bringing her other hand up and slapping Jeremy. Hard.

Jeremy's sobs cut off. His whole face was buzzing from the impact. He could practically feel the red handprint on his cheek, raw and red. His jaw went slack as he stared at his mom with a terrified expression. She opened her mouth again, looking so terrifyingly furious—

"Veronica, please just leave." A deeper, saner voice came from the doorway. Jeremy and his mom both turned, seeing Paul Heere in the doorway. He looked tired and sad, like he was grieving something huge. "I will not allow you to keep my son here so you can poison his mind!" His mom screeched. Jeremy turned to his mom, eyes wide, face still numb. "And I will not let you take him with you so you can ruin his life!" His dad yelled in return, raising his voice for the first time in five years of bitter fighting.

Jeremy felt shell shocked as his parents screeched at each other back and forth. He didn't—couldn't—do much but crawl back into his bed and bring the covers over himself, trying to hide from the screams and the sound of Mom pushing past Dad and into the hallway. He only remembered hearing one thing very clearly: "Fine! You can keep that demon child and raise him to be as much of a screw up as you!"

And then there were footsteps and banging and vibrating throughout the house. Then the slam of a door.

Jeremy kept his head buried in his knees. He let himself shake violently, heart hammering in his ribs, _face still buzzing, dammit_ —

"Jeremy." A soft voice said from beside him. Jeremy practically jumped five feet in the air. He pulled the blankets off his head to see his dad beside him, looking down at him with a familiar tired and sad expression. "She's gone." His dad said.

And then Jeremy watched his father walk out of his room and close the door behind him, footsteps padding back down the hall to his own room.

Jeremy let the silence of the house overwhelm him for a second. There were no screams. No arguments. No crashing plates. No crying. No broken pleas. The eerie quiet pounded into Jeremy's ear drums until he couldn't see anything, couldn't feel anything, couldn't hear anything.

What was he supposed to do now?

 _Michael_ , Jeremy thought suddenly, chest heaving. He'd slipped right into a panic attack without even noticing. He reached out blindly for his phone, gasping for oxygen. As he pawed desperately for his device, he tried to sort out what exactly he was trying to grasp—his phone or his sanity. Right now, he felt like a madman, shaking and silently pleading for his pulse to stop rushing in his ears.

His fingers finally enclosed around a small rectangle. Jeremy grabbed it, sliding into his phone and calling Michael as fast as he could with his twitching fingers.

As Jeremy listened to the phone ring, he felt a dry sob rock his body. He was still in shock, he guessed. The news hadn't hit hard yet. Jeremy glanced at his bedside clock, seeing that it was two A.M. Michael wouldn't be awake. Jeremy would have to deal with this on his own. That was better, he was just a bother anyways--

"Jer?" A muffled voice spoke into the phone. Jeremy bit his lip to try and steady his breathing enough to speak. "She l-l-l-left. Mom's gone."

All it took was those two words. _Mom's gone._ And it all seemed so very suddenly real to Jeremy. Mom was actually gone. No more home cooked meals. No more afternoon homework tips. No more carefully packed lunches to show off to Michael. No more mom. She was really gone.

_Fine! You can keep that demon child and raise him to be as much of a screw up as you!_

And she thought he was a screw up. A failure. A terrible son for not wanting to go with her and leave his life behind.

Jeremy let out a heartbroken sob, tears finally oozing from his eyes. He couldn't breath and he couldn't see and everything was salty from his tears and his chest was burning and _she left she's gone she's gone I'm alone_ —

"Jeremy, Jer, I need you to breathe for me, okay?" Michael's soothing voice spoke calmly into the receiver. Jeremy opened his mouth, trying to gulp down any oxygen that might be in the air around him. It felt like there was none. "You can do it, Jer, I know you can. Hey, could you do something for me? Can you tell me five things you can see right now? Could you do that, Jerbear?" And Michael's voice seemed like a smooth ocean wave, washing over Jeremy. He shakily looked around the room, trying to focus through his tear blurred eyes.

"Th-there's the door, a-and my cardigan, and..." Jeremy took a second to try and breath. He closed his eyes to try and concentrate, but realised he needed them open to name things. "It's okay, take your time. You're doing amazing." Michael said, almost as if sensing Jeremy's struggle. Jeremy heard shuffling on Michael's end, but he ignored it. "And-and my PAC-Man patch, and th-the lava lamp you got me for my birthday...and...and..." Jeremy glanced around a little, wiping his wet, wide eyes. "And the window." He managed to say, chest still heaving. "Good! I'm proud of you, you did it! Now, are there four things that you can touch?" Michael's reply was instant, voiced still soothing and comforting.

 _You don't deserved that_ , Jeremy found himself thinking. _You're a screw up._

He managed to list off four things he could touch despite the awful thoughts banging around in his mind. The bedspread, the carpet, his phone case, and the wall. By the time he'd listed them, he could see his surroundings clearer. Michael then asked him to name three things he could hear. This routine was a normal one for both of them.

"Th-the crickets," Jeremy muttered, hands still shaking and breathing a little uneven. "S-silence...and..a car outside." Jeremy said, indeed hearing the roar of an engine pass on the street below. "You're doing so well, Jeremy. We're almost there. Two things you can smell?"

Lotion and dust.

"And one thing you can taste?"

"Tears." Jeremy replied, breathing finally stable enough to talk correctly. His panicky state seemed to have passed. Now, all he felt was a cold, heavy, hallow feeling inside his chest. "Amazing, Jer. You're so amazing. I'm so proud of you." There was a beat of silence. "But, um, do you think you could open the door?" Michael whispered through the phone. Jeremy frowned, sniffing. "Wh-what?" Michael chuckled slightly. "I'm at your door, buddy. In a not stalker-y way. Just to help you."

Jeremy let the silence hang for a second. Michael had come over at 2 A.M...for Jeremy. It made him feel...different. The cold in his chest felt slightly warmed.

He kicked his legs over the side of the bed and crept downstairs, the call still going. Jeremy listened to the soft sound of Michael’s breathing through the phone. It sounded a little weird, but it kept him calm. When he reached the door, he opened it and finally disconnected the call. Michael stood there in all his pre-teen glory, red hoodie thrown on messily. He pressed his lips together at the sight of Jeremy and held his arms open wide.

Jeremy wanted to thank Michael profusely and tell him about how wonderful he was for coming over at an insane time just for him, but all he managed to do was let out a pathetically desperate whine and pounce into Michael's inviting arms. And when they were wrapped around him, warm and strong and firm, Jeremy felt like it was easier to breath.

The warmth in his chest blossomed a little more as Michael stroked his hair and muttered, "It'll be okay, Jeremy. I'm here. I'm not leaving. Not ever. I promise."

 _I love you_ , Jeremy wanted to scream. _Thank you._

Michael hugged him a little tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I really wanted to frame the idea of Jeremy's mom leaving. Because even if the musical doesn't touch base on it as much, the book does imply that Jeremy has a bad relationship with his parents and especially with his mother. So I had to give Jeremy some angst to get through. (Sorry not sorry!)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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